


Varric And The Tale of Nan Cuninglinguist

by chicagoartnerd



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Pining, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/chicagoartnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric might have a thing for Hawke. That he keeps to himself. That only comes out when he tries to write romance novels to replace his "Hard in High Town" series. Things are really starting to get out of hand when a rival author appears to fill the niche of Varric's books better than he could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Varric And The Tale of Nan Cuninglinguist

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a humorous thing I was doing because I love Varric and wanted him to be romancable in DAII so badly but alas it was not meant to be. But then it became this little porny story that I had trouble figuring out where to end. So here you go. Enjoy the love interest Varric!

He was finished with “Hard in Hightown.”  

Donnen Brennicovick had seen his last sunset and that particular set of tales was closed. He had been serious when he mentioned switching to romance to Aveline. The only problem was he couldn’t continue to use Sir Donnick as a model for his lead character as he was now married to said Guard Commander.

And if he wrote about their relationship she would have his balls in brass and mount them above her desk in the Viscount’s Keep. Also she might hurt him for just thinking about her in an untoward way, let alone writing it for his voracious following of Kirkwall readers.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Hawke.

He told plenty of stories about her day in and day out, and some of them were even true. That was just how amazing and particularly stupid some of the crusades she had dragged them on had been.

And that spellbound him.

It wasn’t every day a brilliant storyteller got to meet a living legend before she was one. So he was considering using her as an inspiration.  

But every time he tried he couldn’t write it down. His mind would lead him into all the nasty twisting places his tongue could go but he got distracted every time it did. There was something to be said for smut so hot it turned its author on while writing it. But a completely other thing could be said about authors who were too aroused to actually finish anything except themselves.

He had long ago admitted that his attraction to both Hawke the woman and Hawke the legend was unattainable and had instead vowed to give her a fair shake in the way her story got told. Because Maker knew people would get it all wrong, he certainly did.

Fortunately his fallacies were on purpose so there was a marked difference between his stories and those of your average sailor or Tavern brawler.  

So instead of pining away he ran his various “investments,” greased many of Kirkwall’s wheels, and followed her into whatever mess of the week she had found for them. All the while banging his head against the wall of his study trying not to think of all the noises she would let slip if he were doing the same to her. 

So instead of the porn he decided to focus on the romance part first.

As far as he could tell Hawke wasn’t partial to any specific gender so he started writing a romance between characters that were basically Isabela and Hawke. He could write the sexy banter brilliantly, it was his strong suit after all. And he had spent more than enough time with Isabela in the Hanged Man to know how her mind worked.

Not that you needed that much time with Isabela to realize she was a saucy and clever lecher.

 But slowly, as the passages flicked from his quill, they devolved into him talking with Hawke. Snarky and hitting on her, complimenting her covertly. Showing his concern in the small gestures of life. Things that came to pass in the story sounded suspiciously like real life conversations he had been having with her. So much so he knew that if she ever read the latest series of copper dreadfuls by one Tobias V. Silvertongue she would instantly know his heart.

Andraste’s lacy knickers; if he published the books every mine and dockworker in Lowtown would know he had more than friendly feelings for one Kathryn Hawke. 

He then did something he rarely did; he gave up writing them.

But as fate would have it the concept of having Hawke as the protagonist and love interest was picked up by another author. 

* * *

   

He wasn’t surprised to see that another writer had taken up the void left by the lack of his cheap and thrilling stories. That was simply the way of the world. Especially the world of the common folk, although he would be willing to bet a few sovereigns that quite a few nobles had read “Hard in Hightown.” 

He was considering reading these new stories when he got the time. But things were really picking up in the world of professional heroism.

The way things were going with the Quanari gone meant that the entire city was one giant crucible of fear and hatred. On both the mages and Templars parts; with every other citizen smashed down underneath them. He tended to stay out of that conflict. Being a dwarf what could he know of men and magic, and yet she was right at the center of the storm, lashing out trying to bring order to chaos.

If any one could do it it would be her.  Maker she had already lost so much simply trying to survive let alone actually saving people.

With all the worldly distractions it was actually Isabela who was reading them aloud to a table full of half drunk rabble at the Hanged Man when he dragged himself back from another hard day’s work on the Wounded Coast. 

An apostate/Templar conspiracy and things were looking even worse for the city of Kirkwall.  So instead of joining in he took his seat at his regular table and listened for a change.

_“Well then what do you believe in Val? If not The Stone or The Maker?”_

_Sendra was truly curious this time and not just baiting him._

_“I believe in laughter, in the power of a good tale. I believe in cold ale and a warm bed. Don’t you?”_

_“I think everyone does, but no higher power? Not fate, nor an all-seeing deity?”_

_Val snorted,_

_“Any omniscient deity that might be controlling this world must have one massive grudge, a wicked sense of humor, or be completely apathetic. So no I don’t. But I do believe that the stupidity and ingenuity of people knows no bounds.”_

_“Ah and you think that’s why I’m here?”_

_He shook his head solemnly,_

_“No Kitten. I know you’re here for business and business only. I don’t fool myself like that any more.”_

_If it had been any one else she would have slapped them calling her “Kitten” but he didn’t mean it to belittle or patronize her, he said it because he wanted to call her something else but couldn’t._

_She let the last part of his minor confession wash over her and felt the overwhelming desire to hold him. But he was right; she was actually here for business. Now was not the time for her to show him exactly how foolish he was being._

 

Some one in the crowd shouted at Isabela,

“Eh I thought yew said this wass gonna b’full of debauchery and co’rousing!”

Several other voices joined in the heckling and Isabela scowled before twirling her dagger and slamming in straight through some poor sod’s wooden mug in front of her.

“Next son of a mule and Mabari to interrupt me gets that dagger straight through his tender bits. Understood?”

Varric smirked at the action but inside his thoughts were racing, where was this story going? Was there a good reason everyone’s eyes seemed to be glued to this new rag tag pocket tale? So far all he could say of it was that it was intriguing and pretty well written. But what every one seemed to be interested in was the smut.

Isabela read a few more pages of adventure before the characters Val and Sendra returned to her rooms above a Tavern and inn. That’s when it got to the part everyone in the Hanged Man had been cheering for.

 

_“You’re crazy you know that?”_

_She chuckled and pulled him by the front of jacket lapels,_

_“You’re about to find out how right you actually are.”_

_His eyes flashed but he wouldn’t let her pull him down onto the bed with her,_

_“Are you sure about this Sendra?”_

_She was angry now, why was he still hesitating, did he not want her the way she wanted him after all?_

_“What do you want me to do? Strip naked and tattoo ‘Take me now Val Rentas’ below my navel!”_

_He laughed and looked away from her before turning back, making their eyes lock,_

_“I’m just a dwarf and you’re this amazingly talented, beautiful, deadly, and crazy assassin. If this was a novel you’d be ending up with the swarthy swordsman or beautiful leggy mage.”_

_She snorted and tugged harder, pulling him on top of her,_

_“This isn’t some story, real life doesn’t work that like that. Take me at my word that I want you. Or you can take your hand and slip it between my legs to feel my desire. Whichever you prefer.”_

_He didn’t hesitate this time and their kissing and groping soon found the both of them lacking clothes. She had him in hand as he was sucking at her neck, chasing her pulse up and down her throat. He was strong and was still propped up on one arm as the other played with her breasts. Sendra’s fingers ghosted over the tip coating themselves in his slickness before stroking down the length of him again. Val stuttered but did not collapse on top of her even though his arm has started to shake._

_“Impressive. I bet I could wrap my legs around your neck and your could devour me against the wall quite easily.”_

_His breath ghosted against her sensitive neck in a huff,_

_“Next time. Definitely next time.”_

_She laughed and released him taking her hands and running them down his hairy chest before swiftly grabbing his waist and flipping him on his back. He wasn’t expecting it so he flailed a bit but once there he stilled and looked up at her in awe. Her breasts in his face and the curve of her hips and firm ass hovering above his very ready cock._

_She rubbed herself against him and he bucked up involuntarily but she held him down a little firmer and bent down to his ear,_

_“I want to ride you now. Would that be alright?”_

_He grinned crookedly,_

_“The short answer would be yes. The longer answer would be fuck yes.”_

_She laughed and then sunk down onto him effortlessly slick. It felt amazing. She was so full and the head of his cock was hitting her in just the right spot._

_She rocked back and forth experimentally at first but soon she was riding him so hard that he could only thrust up helplessly. She stopped holding him down and dug her heels into the bed all the while touching her clit until she came loud and screaming. She kept going though until they were both sweat slicked and he had emptied himself inside her._

_They laid down next to each other, stuck together by the results of their effort but neither one cared. She had always worked well with Val but now she knew for a fact that they made excellent lovers as well as companions. This was only the beginning as a smirk spread across her features, the climax of her tale had yet to be told._

**_To be continued in issue three of “Size Did Matter” by Nan Cuninglinguist._ **

 

Varric had to admit that Isabela did have a very attractive reading voice and at the conclusion he joined the racket of complaints from patrons asking for more.

“Shut it you lot the next one doesn’t come out till next week! You’ll just have to walk stiffly home and tell your hand all about it till then.”

There were some grumbles but for the most part people went back to what they had been doing before her reading and Varric found himself downing his ale and thinking about his brother making sexual advances towards the Arishok.

It worked. He ended up slightly disturbed instead of turned on when Isabela finally came to his table and sat down jauntily next to him.

She picked up his mug and took a long pull of his ale before addressing him lightly,

“So what did you think O’master of the oral arts?”

He shrugged and took a swig of his stolen ale,

“It was pretty decent. I would ask if you wrote it but I know for a fact you prefer the actual act to putting it to paper.”

She smiled wickedly at that,

“Why read the schematics for making a masthead when you can go out to the docks and take one?”

He raised an eyebrow at that,

“Interesting metaphor there Rivaini. Do Captains make a regular habit of having congress with their ships?”

“You’d be surprised what a gal would do on a ship alone with fifty idiots. Sometimes I even surprise myself.”

“I bet that would be a sight to see.”

She laughed and took his ale from under his nose,

“To be sure but you’ll have to do more than bet if you want to see it.”

This time it was Varric who chuckled.

“Well if you didn’t write it I would be interested to meet who did.”

At this Isabela’s cat’s eyes flashed and she grinned,

“Ah something Kirkwall’s ‘Merchant of Whispers’ doesn’t know?! Would he be willing to pay some gold to find out?”

He shrugged and sighed,

“Don’t bother yourself I’m sure you’re quite busy minding ships and looking for trouble. Besides I’ve got people who will find out for me for free.”

She took another stolen drink of his ale and wiped her mouth before standing and stretching,

“I could use some more friends like that. I’m currently wanted elsewhere though. Goodnight dwarf.”

He watched her as she flashed him a smug smile before leaving. 

And winked as she took off out of The Hanged Man. He almost ordered one of his to follow her. But it wasn’t worth it. If she was up to something then he would know about it soon enough.

He suspected she was going to warm Fenris’s cold mansion but he couldn’t be entirely sure about that either. They weren’t serious. Seemed more into each other for the sport of it. And yet Varric knew that Isabela could just as easily be warming Hawke’s bed. There was interest there and it wasn’t just from Isabela’s end.

He suddenly felt very tired and dragged himself back to his study but not before asking one of his girls to fetch the first and second copy of “Size Did Matter.” He was going to do some research before bed.

* * *

 

As many ears and eyes as he had in his employ this Nan was proving ghostlike.

She, if they even were a she, had multiple gophers and none of them knew who they were working for. Some even didn’t know that what they were delivering to the next gopher was a manuscript. All they knew was they were getting paid in gold.

That might have narrowed things down a bit as the only people who could afford to do that were the very wealthy or the very criminal. Sometimes both.

While he was hunting another volume came out and a paragraph in the book had reminded him strongly of Hawke's burdens. Varric found himself pondering over a conversation he had had with Hawke just a week ago.

They had just gone spying for the First Enchanter again. Things were not looking good for the future stability of the city.

“What do you think of this whole business Varric? Usually you’re eager to voice your opinion. Why so glum and silent?”

He paused before answering, everyone else in the party seemed to be listening as well,

“What do I know about mages. Templars even less. Dwarves don’t generally have to worry about magic uprisings.”

Hawke shrugged in her leather armor and looked up at the nearly starless sky,

“I don’t really know much about magic uprisings either. But doesn’t it concern you when your friends and loved ones are affected by it?”

This actually did stop him,

“We all miss Bethany and even though I never met your father I’m sure he was a good man as well. But this whole mess is because people, whether they are mages or elves or dwarves, can only be pushed so far before they snap. The Templars would have been wise to remember that.”

She looked at him with shining gold eyes in the dark streets,

“That wasn’t the answer I was expecting from you but it is a welcome one.”

No one spoke much after their exchange but Varric was thinking about it for several days afterwards.

Hawke was under a lot of pressure to succeed in this and everyone always expected her to know exactly what to do.

But this was one of those moments in history where everything was going to go to pieces no matter what any one did. They could all feel it.

So why not try to enjoy their time before the crumbling descent into madness. At least that was how he saw it. Isabela, Merrill, and even Mister Brooding Fenris seemed to agree with him if the amount of time they now spent drinking in the Hanged Man was any indication.

And yet since that night he had seen suspiciously little of Hawke.

Varric rarely paid visits to her estate, it was much more likely for her to come and visit him.

Feeling a little bit out of sorts he made his way to High Town to see if she was in. He found her alone in front of the fire sitting with her Mabari.

Hawke started when she noticed his presence but then relaxed. When neither of them said anything he sat down next to her on the rug. She scooted over and they both stared into the fire for a long time.

“Do you do this every night Hawke?”

She shrugged and leaned back on her elbows,

“Not every night no. You should know better as I often drag you out of the Hanged Man at this hour to hunt down thieves and smugglers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She looked away and mumbled,

“I’m not always this lonely. But if you are commenting on the fact that I am alone then yes that is the state of the majority of my evenings since mother was murdered.”

Varric suddenly regretted saying something and was about to try and cheer her up when she interrupted his thoughts,

“Even Gamlen won’t come to visit me. Can you believe it? Sometimes I sit her with Nola and wonder if I’ve been cursed some how.”

The Mabari whined in distress and Varric had to agree with it,

“Hawke you’re one of the bravest, cunning, hilarious, beautiful people I know. It’s not every day a storyteller meets a living legend you know.”

She let out a bark of bitter laughter but then stilled,

“Yes but how many of your stories speak of the immeasurable loss some one must undertake to be a hero? Not just of life, because every one dies, but of freedom of friendship of love. None of your stories ever talk about how lonely it is to try and be there for everyone all the time.”

He mulled that over for a bit and then said,

“Every year since we met on the anniversary of that meeting I hold a little party. Just myself and some drinks at the Hanged Man. And each year I think of inviting you or hope that you might remember and stumble in looking for me so I can buy you a pint.”

“But you never do. And I don’t blame you for it. We all know how busy you are so we take your time where we can get. I guess none of us realized that being friends with you means more than just showing up for adventures. I think all of us forget you’re human Hawke, because we’re in awe of you most of the time.”

She snorted at the last part but then turned back to face him,

“Call me Kat. I love my father’s name and want it to be remembered but I am human. Call me by my name.”

“How hard would you deck me if I started calling you kitten?”

“Deck you? Varric, dearest, I would use my knives.”

They both laughed at that but when things quieted down she spoke again,

“Thank you. And just so you know I remember that day too but I wasn’t sure how to ask you about it without.....”

She stopped and looked up at the ceiling then sighed,

“Go to the fish warehouse down on the west docks to the east entrance facing the water on moonrise two nights from now. Then I’ll tell you what I was about to say.”

With that she rose and motioned for Nola to follow her upstairs. He stared after her stunned and finally rose as well, making his way back down the streets to his apartment in the Hanged Man.  

* * *

 

Varric was about ready to crawl out of his skin for the two days prior to Hawke’s strange meetup, he honestly had no idea what he was about to find. There was something about their conversation that he was missing and one or two words that he had suddenly forgotten seemed important.

Which was odd for him because usually he knew what was going on.

There had only been several instances in recent memory when he had been shammed and needless to say the people who did it were now dead. Bertrand being the most glaring example.

Varric didn’t think it was some kind of distraction or trick that Hawke was playing. He kept playing their conversation back in his head while he lay asleep at night and just couldn’t imagine where it was actually going and why she was sending him to a fish warehouse at night by himself.

But he followed her instructions and sure enough something did appear to be happening. A female figure was handing a parcel to a weaselly looking young man. They spoke briefly and then she handed him a parcel before she started to walk back up the stairs away from the docks.

He wasn’t sure who to follow so he made the split second choice to go after the woman and see where she was returning to.

When he got close enough in tailing her he stopped in her sights. She almost tumbled into him she was in such a rush to get back to wherever she was going. But instead of running she stopped and looked at him in alarm.

It was Hawke’s elven servant Orana. Recognition clicked in her green eyes and they went even wider,

“Oh hello Master Varric. What a strange thing seeing you here so late.”

He set his stance firmly and said smoothly,

“ The same could be said for you Orana. What was it you were doing just now with that parcel?”

Her face went from skittish white to extremely distressed,

“Please don’t make me betray Mistress! I promised I would tell no one, speak to no one other than the courier. I don’t want to be let go. She treats me well. Please I don’t want to be a slave again!”

Varric’s eyes widened and he held up his hands in peace,

“Relax Orana I don’t want to get you in trouble. It was Hawke who told me to come here tonight to watch you actually. So it would probably be okay if you told me what you were doing here.”

She looked at him suspiciously like some one who was used to being deceived but then sighed and said,

“Mistress has me bring a parcel full of her papers to this courier once a week. I don’t know what they say! Just that she spends all her free time writing. She wants to teach me to read and write as well but I keep telling her it’s not my place to know. Could you maybe try to speak with her about it! Ah I shouldn’t be asking you favors Master Varric.”

He snorted and waved a large hand at the stammering elf,

“You’ve lived with Hawke for almost two years now, you should know once she sets her mind to something you can’t stop her. And don’t call my Master Varric. It makes my backside itch.”

She colored and nodded then stared dismayed,

“I supposed you should accompany me back to Mistress’s house then.”

He shook his head in the negative and stretched while removing Bianca from his back,

“No tonight Fidget. Tell her to come see me in the Hanged Man as soon as you get back there. That should be good enough.”

And with that her left her standing there agape as he charged down the docks towards to cut purses making their escape down the alley with some poor sap's coin.

 

He made decently quick work of them so he was surprised to find Hawke sitting at his table with a drink already in her hand when he got there. He sat down across from her instead of in his usual seat at the head of the table.

“Mind telling me why I had to explain to Orana that fidget wasn’t some sort of official title and is instead a motion someone does when they're nervous?”

He could tell it wasn’t what she wanted to talk about but he let it slide.

Let her take another pull at her ale and grimace before he spoke,

“Just another nickname like Daisy or Sunshine. Nothing too serious. Unlike the strange mission you sent me on tonight.”

She looked suddenly wary and sighed,

“I guess I should give you an explanation but if it’s alright can we do it in your chambers instead of out here in the open?”

The response of _“we can do it where ever you want love”_ was on his tongue but he reined it in and let her trudge up the steps to his rooms.

He had no idea why she was being so nervous all of sudden, it wasn’t like he didn’t write smut in his free time as well.

To say Hawke was his blind spot the size of a Mabari might have been an understatement.

This time he did sit at the head of the table and instead of sitting Hawke downed her drink and steadied herself on the heavy oak table.

He had never seen her so out of sorts and he had seen her covered in spider guts while piss ass drunk. That had been a fun night come to think of it.

“So have you figured out what those papers were yet or do I have to explain everything from the beginning?”

“Well it couldn’t hurt you explaining how on Thedas you have time to be a novelist of smutty copper novels and still keep you hair perfectly coifed.”

She barked out a laugh and seemed to relax a little bit. He waited as she folded herself into the seat next to him and put her head in her hands.

“This is not how I imagined this conversation going. Although as my writing prowess suggests I’m not terribly good at predicting what you’re going to say after all.”

He froze and then everything seemed to click into place but it was almost too incredible to believe.

But then most things about Hawke usually were. He started slowly,

“So if I were to say that some of the conversations between Sendra and Val sounded like ones we had had you wouldn’t deny it.”

She nodded yes and looked at him from the corner of her eyes so he giddily continued,

“And it’s not just the conversation you’re interested in is it? What happens between Sendra and Val is something you wouldn’t be opposed to?”

She slammed her fist on the wood table making it rattle,

“Maker Varric do you want me to say I want fuck you on every surface in your quarters and mine twice over?!”

His grin was positively feral,

“Well it certainly couldn’t hurt your cause.”

She eyed him skeptically but sunk back into her seat,

“You know I like to joke as much as you do but I’m serious Varric. If you’re going to reject me do it cleanly at least if only because I am a friend.”

He grew suddenly serious. He hadn’t been making fun of her.

Varric was overjoyed and was expressing it the only way he knew how, wittily. Although not as wittily as he had intended it seemed.

“Hawke, no Kat, I confessed that I held a private anniversary every year on the date of the day we first met and you think I’m not serious. I just never thought the Champion of Kirkwall would have any interest in a merchant dwarf’s second son.”

She rolled her eyes skyward and mouthed what looked like _“Maker help us poor fools in love”_ before she faced him and leaned back in her seat,

“In all the time you have known me have I ever done anything other than flirt with men, women, and otherwise. I know you have me followed, have I ever taken any of my companions to bed?”

When he shook his head "no" she continued,

“Why do you think that is? It’s partly because I’ve held a flame for you since the first week of us meeting and partly because I’m sure three fourths of the people chasing me want me for my money and the other fourth for my ass.”

Varric leaned forward,

“I assure you that no less than half of them want you for your ass.”

She chuckled and then coughed,

“Look I don’t really date, I don’t do one night stands, and I have trouble keeping the people I care about alive and out of Mage prison. But if you’ll have me in spite all of that let me know.”

He stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds longer than he should of because she started to squirm and rise when he placed his hand on hers,

“Kat there is one story I will never tell and you have to understand that. But the rest of me, all the stories I’ve written, lived, and have yet to write will always belong to you. I don’t know why neither of us have said anything before now because honestly the amount of nights I have spent by myself thinking of you straddling me in a back alley,”

She swiftly pushed him back into his seat and sat firmly in his lap. Taking his head in both her hands she started to stroke his stubble affectionately,

“Because we’re both the same type of stubborn stupid people who try and protect everyone from their feelings.”

She pressed her lips to his neck under his ear and then whispered in it,

“There’s a toy or two in my armoire that I might have named Varric and Bianca.”

He gasped at that and she laughed as she started to nip and suck all the way down his neck and shoulders,

“Maker you don’t know how many times I’ve thought of doing this.”

She kissed him deeply as she ground down with her hips.

He moaned and then sprung into action, going for the multiple belts strapped across her chest and hips.

She kept kissing him in between undoing fastenings running her hands over his chest hair. They managed to have both shimmied out of their trousers and small clothes, at far least enough.

Cursed rogue wear had way too many buckles, buttons, and belts for this sort of thing.

Both their breaths were ragged as Kat rubbed her wet folds against his cock and when she slid down onto it they both cried out. It was fast and dirty with her riding him hard pulling at him, scratching, he just tried to hold on and enjoy the ride.

It was better than anything he could have imagined and when she came clenching around him and nearly falling off of him in the chair he pulled her back up just in time to pound into her while she road it out keening and then come himself in a shout. She slid off his cock but didn’t leave his lap, instead resting her forehead against his and breathing deeply through her nose,

“How long before you can eat me out against that wall over there?”

He laughed and then stroked her nipple playfully through the light fabric of her breast band,

“As soon as you're ready kitten.”

She stumbled to her feet and kicked off her pants the rest of the way then walked over the to the wall purposefully swinging her hips.

Varric followed her eagerly and she smirked as he picked her up effortlessly and threw her thighs over his shoulders.

Then he felt the pad of her foot slap his now naked ass,

“You’re going to pay for that nickname later.”

“I don’t doubt it precious.”

She growled at that and thrust her hips into his face. He laughed as she panted out,

“Stop talking Varric and put that beautiful tongue to good use.”

He hummed against her and she bucked, trying to hold onto the wall with one hand and his strongly corded neck with the other. He bit and sucked at the inside of her thigh and chuckled as he kneaded both her ass cheeks,

“I can’t have your imagination showing me up. Val and Sendra did it, what, three times that first night?”

Her eyes flew open and she looked down at him with a matching grin,

“Want to make it an even dozen?”

“Oh the short answer would be yes. The long answer would be fuck yes.”

They both laughed and moaned against each other and it was the first time either one of them could remember forgetting all the that had been misery heaped on them in a long time.

They were happy that night and every night after that till the fall of Kirkwall. If you’re a romantic you can believe they were still happy even after that final betrayal.

The real truth is that without Varric to tell the tale no one will ever know that they ran away halfway cross the world together. Fucking and fighting together into eternity and never shutting up about it on the way. Just like things were meant to be. 


End file.
